Kingdom by the Sea (Romantic Suspense)

by Jill Winters

  One big difference, though. While Nicole had been a passive participant at September's meeting, this time she was the initiator.

  Once she got back to Boston and had time to think, she'd decided to call Cedric and ask him for some direct legal guidance. With the stolen paintings of Nina's now recovered, Nicole wanted to know how long she could hold on to them before they needed to be declared and handed over to Goliath Gallery. What were her options?

  Nicole had confided only to Alyssa and Cedric about the lengths their aunt had gone to in order to hide her newest works. Still, she left out the part about Michael's involvement in the theft. What would be the point? As misguided as it may be, it just seemed like a private knowledge that she should protect.

  Now they sat watching Cedric; his appearance was a rumpled kind of affair, but not as sallow as the last time they'd been there. Perhaps then he had just been saddened, as they were, by Nina's death.

  “What do you think?” Nicole asked him now. “What are my options now that the paintings have been returned to Aunt Nina's estate?”

  “Well, they have been returned in as far as they are salable goods to be enterprised through Goliath Gallery,” he said.

  “No, but I don't want to sell them,” Nicole insisted. “Nina didn't want that. There has to be another way.”

  After a careful pause, Cedric replied, “From what you've told me, it sounds as though your aunt did intend for you to sell them, but not to have the gallery take them from you and control the sale. It was my understanding that her primary objective was to provide as much, financially, to you and your sisters as she possibly could.

  “Assuming the paintings get turned over to Goliath, then yes, the gallery would be the intermediary seller. But you would still receive a significant percentage, per your aunt's contract.”

  “But—”

  Alyssa broke in, “Nic, it sounds like Nina was just trying to cut out the middle man so she could leave us more. But hey, she tried and it didn't work out that way. I mean, if she had lived, then she could've waited, held onto her paintings for several months, before giving them over to us. Right?” She looked at Cedric to confirm.

  “That's correct. She was obviously concerned that her illness might take hold before the six month extension window on her contract was up. I'm sure she never anticipated that she would...well, that a fall down the stairs would be the thing....” His voice trailed off then.

  “You shouldn't feel guilty about selling them,” Alyssa added.

  “I don't,” Nicole insisted. “I just genuinely don't want to. This is the last piece of Aunt Nina we have, and it was done for us. I want to keep mine, anyway. Always.” Alyssa started to speak when Nicole put her hand up to quiet her little sister—who had wanted to come today not just for moral support, but also for the legal education. Fine, so she could be educated, but Nicole was going to go forward without being swayed. “I don't want to sell my painting. And I don't wish to turn it over to the gallery for sale. Since Nina's contract expired in August—granted there is the termination of rights clause—but surely, there must be something I can do. Please tell me what my options are.”

  “Well—there is one option,” Cedric admitted. “A loophole you might even call it.”

  Intrigued, Alyssa's eyes lit up. “Really? What? This is getting good.”

  Cedric elaborated, “The contract stipulates the gallery as agent for 'profit and sale'. So if you were not to profit or sell from the paintings, you would, in effect, negate that aspect of their claim to ownership.”

  Confused Alyssa asked, “You mean if she just hangs them on a wall in her living room?”

  “Well—given recent events—I doubt you would want to do that anyway,” Cedric replied, obviously referring to the break-in and theft of the paintings in the first place. This reminded her yet again of Michael; willfully, she suppressed the thought. Now was not the time for dewy-eyed wallowing.

  “Okay, fine, not hang them on the wall,” Alyssa corrected, “but lock them in a safety deposit vault or something? Is that what you mean?”

  “I'm afraid it would be more involved than that,” Cedric said, almost sounding apologetic. “Perhaps...too involved.”

  “Tell me,” Nicole said.

  Pointedly, Cedric seemed to assess her. “How would you feel about creating a charity?”

  “A charity...” she repeated, taken by surprise.

  He held up the contract, as if to help illuminate. “If the works became part of a charitable organization, then they would become part of a not-for-profit purpose that is not constricted by this contract.”

  “Oh, my God, a charity,” Alyssa said, sounding excited by the idea. “That might be really cool! We could all help, too!” Nicole mulled it over for a few long moments. Then her sister misinterpreted her silence, and backed off. “Actually, though...it would probably be too much work...it might not be worth it, just for the paintings...”

  When Nicole spoke, she did so with renewed conviction, determination. “Let's do it. Maybe some kind of fund, with proceeds going toward art supplies for poor schools? Or money that would go toward neighborhood art classes? Something artistic, as a tribute to Aunt Nina.” Looking directly at Cedric, Nicole asked, “But will you help me figure out all the legal elements?”

  “Of course, of course. If you retain me as your attorney, I will be happy to guide you through all the necessary steps. But as I said, it's involved so you will want to think this through before you—”

  “I don't need to think it through,” Nicole said firmly. “I'm going to do this.”

  After all, she wasn't working at the moment, she was comfortable financially for a while because of her inheritance, and somehow in the last several weeks, she'd become tired of hiding in her books and sweaters and under her covers. One thing she'd learned was that there were things in the not-so-distant world that she was utterly clueless about. She had always let herself be comfortably sheltered, but still the world had come inside. And with it, things she was unprepared for, things with shades and layers. Things that had ultimately confused her life.

  Maybe now would be a chance to do something outside of herself, to be active instead of reactive. To think bigger, like lines of paint running off the canvas and right onto the walls. Nina would have approved; she had actually been like that herself, but Nicole had been too inexperienced to realize it. Even at the start. When Nina had built her nieces a kingdom by the sea, all Nicole had seen was a tree house to play in. Years later, Nina had given that back and so much more. Nicole could finally see it. Not just the kingdom, but also the sea.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  The frantic yapping of her puppy drew Nicole's attention to the door. Then the bell rang. “How did you know?” she said to Jingle, her enthusiastic flaxen-haired Yorkie, who was already darting to the foyer. Puddle leaped off the couch to follow Nicole.

  She glanced through the side window expecting to see Elizabeth Parker, who had been helping with publicity for Nicole's charity, or maybe Ginger Bloomingdale—

  She gasped.

  It was automatic, like a gust of air had been sucked right out of her. What was he doing here! He was wearing a cap and his gaze was averted, but unmistakably...it was Michael.

  Nicole hesitated, thinking that she just wouldn't answer, but then he glanced her way and their eyes caught.

  As soon as the door swung open, Puddle bounded at him, jumping on his legs with her tail wagging like crazy. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, startled, a genuinely happy smile breaking across his face. He ducked down to pet her, rub her back, as she panted happily, like this was the one piece she had been missing in her life.

  “What are you doing here?” Nicole blurted. Then, with posed aplomb, she stood up straight, held tight to the brass door handle.

  “You came back,” he said. So did you, she thought, but didn't say it. “I wasn't sure you would after all that happened. Are you okay?”

  “I'm
fine. You know how much I love it here, love this house. It's ironic, I know, but I feel safe here.” Probably because the “bad guys” had been caught or killed, and life in Chatham had been restored to its serene, idyllic calm. Nicole had moved down here, officially, after Thanksgiving. Besides spending Christmas in Lexington with her family, and New Year's in Boston with her friends, she had been living peacefully in Chatham with her dogs.

  “Did you ever find out what the deal was with Abel Kelling dead in your basement?” Michael inquired, standing up.

  “Oh. Turns out he was killed by his sociopathic, ne'er-do-well brother in a misfired attempt to drug and rob him.”

  Michael gave a slow nod. “Huh. Don't you hate that?” he deadpanned.

  Puddle kept close to Michael, licking the snow off his shoes, while Jingle hovered near Nicole's shin, occasionally yelping for clarification. “It's okay, honey,” Nicole told her gently, then fixed her eyes on Michael's. Again she said, “What are you doing here? Am I supposed to believe you were just passing through?”

  “No,” he admitted. “No...I mean, I am passing through, but I knew you lived here now and I actually did have another reason for coming back to Chatham.” Skittishly, she waited. “I'm moving here,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I sold my townhouse.”

  “Well...why...I mean, you can't live here,” she protested.

  “Why not?” he challenged, angling his head at her. When he sharpened his gaze, she became more flustered.

  “Because...” she scrapped, looking about, “I...I don't want you to!”

  “Oh. Gee, that's too bad,” he said with mock contrition. “Because I just put an offer on a place in town, a two-bedroom over on Bridgeport.”

  “What!” Stunned, she threw her arms out, all her pretend composure out the window. “I don't understand this. What about your real life? What about your work or...?”

  “I still have my restaurant investments. And in a shore town like this? I wouldn't mind being a boat mechanic. I'll be fine, trust me,” he assured her. Then his tone lowered, became more serious. “Nicole—trust me,” he repeated, deliberately emphasizing the words.

  “But—”

  “And as for my 'real life'...” He stepped through the door without being invited, snaked his hand around her neck and in one fluid motion, before she could protest, he pulled her up to him, and descended his mouth on hers. The kiss was instant passion, brimming with the ardent desire she had come to associate with Michael. As stunned as she was, she nearly melted on contact, the feel of his hot, insistent mouth and soft seductive lips, and the power of his hands on her...it was familiar and thrilling all at once. Helplessly, she gripped the front of his jacket and allowed him to kiss her.

  Then she regained her senses and pushed back, pulling her face away. “No, stop...what are you doing? This isn't going to work out.”

  “Why not?” he asked her, running his hand over her cheek, but she backed away again. Michael shut the door behind him so they were both in the warm entry foyer. Puddle was at his heels, Jingle was at hers, still throwing in her little yelps to be acknowledged. Normally Nicole catered to her shy-but-hyper puppy's whims, but right now, God help her, she ignored the little thing.

  “People can't change,” Nicole told him.

  “That's not you. You don't believe that. If people can change for the worse, why can't they change for the better? Just look at Hazel.” Quizzically, she tipped her chin. “I saw her out there a few minutes ago,” Michael explained, motioning outside. “She actually didn't scowl at me or give me one of those witchy looks.”

  “Oh. Yeah...well, she got a dog...it kind of mellowed her. Stacy Gristol's Yorkie had puppies. I got one, too—”

  “Nicole,” he interrupted, “I know I hurt you. But, if you let me start over with you—”

  “But everything was a lie.”

  “A lot of what I told you was true. I really do love those 'Future is Wild' shows, you know.” She failed to be charmed by the lighthearted attempt. “And I really did get fired once for punching my boss.” More intently, he added, “What happened between us was the truth.”

  Her heart nearly spun apart. He sounded so sincere, speaking to her with a raw veracity that now made her see the difference—the distinction between the con man and the man. Michael had always been smooth, he'd always seemed plausible, but this was different.

  Overwhelmed, she turned from him and walked a few steps away. He spoke to her spine. “Are you afraid I'll bring you trouble again?”

  Nicole shook her head. “No. It's not that.”

  “I promise you I won’t.”

  A few beats passed.

  “Are you afraid…we'll fall in love again?”

  At the words, tears reached her eyes. In two steps, Michael was right behind her, turning her around. His hug was protective and all-consuming—and she couldn't help it, she sighed and thought: this was how it would be. That maybe this was the reason she hadn't told anyone the truth about him. That a big thing inside was no longer missing. And with her heart overflowing, she hugged him back. As though neither of them had ever left.

  About the Author

  Jill Winters is a summa cum laude graduate of Boston College with a degree in history. She has published five books with Penguin, which have been featured on multiple bestseller lists, and her debut novel, Plum Girl, was a finalist for the Dorothy Parker Award of Excellence.

  Most recently Jill has begun a new mystery series featuring spunky young reporter & grad student, Caitlyn Rocket. The first book in the series, The Unprintable Big Clock Chronicle, spent several weeks on Amazon's Top 100 Bestseller list for humorous fiction and also appeared on Amazon’s Top 100 list for cozy mysteries. The second Caitlyn Rocket mystery will be out in 2013.

  As always, Jill loves to hear from readers! You can email her via jillwinters.com or follow her updates on Twitter.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  PART I

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  PART II

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  About the Author

  (Romantic Suspense)